


A picnic, a prayer, and a plan

by doomed_spectacles



Series: If I could love like anybody else [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Ficlet, Fluff, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Picnics, Post-Canon, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 22:07:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20749514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomed_spectacles/pseuds/doomed_spectacles
Summary: After the world doesn't end, Aziraphale shares a picnic, and a prayer, with Crowley.





	A picnic, a prayer, and a plan

[2019]

"Perhaps one day," Aziraphale said, quietly, trying not to wake the demon dozing beside him. 

Crowley stirred but didn't open his eyes. He was sprawled on their blanket, arms outstretched. One hand cushioned his head and the other drifted away from his body, reaching towards Aziraphale but not quite touching. His sunglasses had migrated to his forehead and left a tiny dent in the skin when he moved. "Mmmm?"

Aziraphale smiled down at him. "Oh, hello," he said.

Crowley rubbed his face with both hands. "Mmmmsssleptabit," he mumbled.

"Yes, you did, my dear."

Crowley yawned and opened his eyes properly, returning his sunglasses to their usual place. His hair was askew and the dent in his forehead remained. If he'd been aware of it, he'd have used a miracle on his appearance, but he wasn't. "Whadjasay?"

Aziraphale looked away, towards the grassy meadow beyond the shade of the tree that sheltered them. "Oh it's..." He was going to say _nothing_. He was going to wave it away, bury his thoughts. But why? He had no reason to, anymore. Instead he smiled at the sight of the disheveled demon. His companion, his constant. "It was just a little wish, I suppose."

"A wish?"

"A prayer, actually. One might say." He waited for Crowley to scoff. To close down. But he didn't. He listened, his face as open as Aziraphale had ever seen it. Here, beneath a tree on a sunny autumn day.

"What are you praying for, angel?" Crowley asked, his voice impossibly gentle. Fragile.

Aziraphale looked up at the sky, at the clouds drifting lazily over the hills beyond. "That one day, they'll understand," he said. "Not approve. But perhaps they'll understand my choice."

He paused. Crowley remained quiet, gazing at the same clouds from a different, lower vantage point.

"Why I would choose this. Why-" He stopped, his lips pursed in thought. A breeze ruffled his hair, tickled his cheeks. He heard the sound of their jackets flapping about on a branch above their heads. A few insects buzzed, smelling the food they'd eaten, then moved on.

"Because, I-" He turned to face Crowley, who lay still, but not tense. Crowley looked up at Aziraphale with the same open curiosity he'd always had. Eager to talk, to know his thoughts, to share. Dappled sunlight caught the highlights and shadows of Crowley's fiery hair, intensifying the contrast between light and dark.

"What could Heaven offer me that I don't have? In this moment."

Crowley's lips parted but he didn't speak. He took a very deep breath.

Aziraphale smiled. "I have the sun shining," he said. He gestured toward the empty basket at his feet. A line of ants was making progress towards it, happily seeking crumbs. "I've had delicious nourishment."

Crowley chuckled at that. He sat up, pushing himself up against the tree until they sat shoulder to shoulder.

Aziraphale continued. "I have peace, for the moment."

"Until those kids with the kite come back."

"Even then. I'll have the joy of witnessing the exuberance of youth when they do." He could feel Crowley's eyes rolling, knew without looking the wry expression on his face.

"I have wine, and someone to share it with," he said.

Crowley twisted his upper body about, dramatically looking at the empty bottles next to them and wagging his eyebrows.

"Okay, then. I have wine back at the shop." He put on an admonishing face, a _you-win-this-one_ face. The face he'd worn while playing their game a thousand times before.

Crowley smiled back, playing along. He settled, closer than before, their sides pressed together. He placed his hand next to Aziraphale's. Their fingers didn't touch, but they so easily could. Extending the offer but allowing him to gracefully refuse. 

Aziraphale placed his hand on top of Crowley's. It felt warm. It felt solid and correct and connected to the earth. "I have the greatest love of my very, very long life," he said.

Crowley's breath left him in a whoosh of air and he seemed to have trouble sitting upright, as if his limbs had gone weightless without his consent. Aziraphale threaded his fingers through Crowley's and Crowley squeezed him back tightly. Aziraphale knew he'd never let go.

He said, "I believe, still, that I have Her, watching over us. What could Heaven- what could any _battle_, no matter how righteous- offer me that I do not have?" He turned to face Crowley and Crowley turned to face him. They sat in silence while the bright afternoon light turned a deeper shade of gold.

Aziraphale brought their joined hands to his lap and covered them with his free hand. He rubbed the back of Crowley's knuckles.

"My prayer, my wish, is that everyone- angels and demons and humans alike- experience this, or something akin to it. Someday. Because then they'd understand why this life on Earth matters so much more than anything else."

Crowley opened his mouth but didn't speak. He took his hand from Aziraphale's grasp and wrapped his arm around the angel's shoulder. Aziraphale fit naturally into his side. They gazed out at the world but for the moment existed solely within the space of a tartan blanket spread underneath a great oak tree. 

Crowley finally spoke. "You know, angel," he said. "If I had to guess, which, knowing She's listening, I wouldn't dare."

"Mmm?"

"But if I had to guess, you know, I'd say _that's_ the Great Plan." He wrapped his other arm around Aziraphale, circling him and clasping his hands together.

"You think so?" Aziraphale rested his head on Crowley's shoulder.

"Mmmm."

"I mean, it's not a _bad_ Plan." Crowley grinned into the fluff of Aziraphale's hair. "Just a bit ineffable, s'all."

**Author's Note:**

> [doomed-spectacles](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/doomed-spectacles) on Tumblr


End file.
